I saw him first. The boy on the train. The day Riley decided she was just like me, the day her lips turned kiwi. We were just seventh graders.
I wanted her to be happy. I wanted her to feel wanted, to feel like the kind of girl she wanted to be. So I gave him up. I had my ten second first date with him, my ten second-long trip through the clouds, then I gave him up to my wide-eyed best friend.
That day, I only thought of him as cute. I had no idea that he was so kind, or loyal, or that he fidgeted with his pen when he was nervous. I didn't know that his favorite color was blue, or that he treated his friends like family. I was unaware of his Texas background, or his ability to make you feel like you're at home when you talk to him. He was just the cute boy on the subway.
But now he's more than that. Oh, he's so much more than that. He's not just cute anymore, he's beautiful, and when I look at him it's like a flock of hummingbirds take flight in my stomach. He is where I go when I feel paper thin. I break on him, and he helps me rearrange the pieces into something better than I was before. Even when I can't find the words to ask for advice, he knows exactly what to say. I go to him empty, and he helps me help myself feel whole again. He doesn't complete me; I do that. He just makes it easier to find the strength to. He doesn't make me feel warm, and bright, and happy, he IS warmth, and light, and joy, and I am so lucky to know him.
And now I want to be happy. I want to feel wanted. I want to feel like the kind of girl I want to be.
But I gave him up. Before I truly knew him, I let my best friend fall into his lap, and fall for him, openly. She got to love him in front of everybody; something I've never gotten the privilege to experience. She loves him, there's no question about that, but not in the way I do; not in the way I could.
But I gave him up.